Chapter 81
VERNON
Paramedics liked to claim that they didn’t diagnose patients; they merely “assessed and treated.” Still, Vernon rattled off a few questions to the ones moving the still-unconscious CJ Moore into the ambulance.
“Looks like an overdose,” the woman told him. “No idea on what. Or when. Plus, severe dehydration.”
“Which takes days?” he asked.
“Right,” she said, and slammed the doors.
He watched the ambulance pull away, then strolled to the patrol car in which Anthony Lambert was cuffed. He opened the rear door and leaned in. “So this keeps happening.”
“Seems like,” Anthony said.
“You must’ve pissed off the officers on scene. What’d you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Yep. That’d do it.” Vernon thumped the car roof with his palm. “Why don’t you head home? I know where to find you.”
“I’d rather wait for Lily-Ann.”
“You really are head over heels for her, aren’t you?”
Anthony looked up at him. “I really am.”
“You know what I say?”
“What’s that?”
“I say good for you, Anthony. Most guys in your position never crawl out of the hole they dug. Look at you. A steady job, a fine woman. Marigold Cottages, huh?”
“Marigold Cottages,” Anthony agreed.
Vernon told the uniformed officers to uncuff Anthony and let him wait in the Volvo, which they did not appreciate. Then he returned to the active scene. Another staircase—this one outdoors—another body, the same property. What were the chances?
“The decedent is Pax Heron,” the crime scene officer told him. “A local masseuse.”
“He specialized in seniors,” Vernon said, to prove he knew his case.
“Well, he’s not getting any older himself.”
He circled the area, then stopped at the corpse.
Pax Heron, dead at the bottom of the stairs.
One arm folded beneath him, his neck angled too sharply.
Vernon checked the area a second time, though he knew he’d find nothing, and ten minutes later, he headed inside to his favorite room in the mansion, the one with the big stereo and liquor bottles.
He settled himself on the gold leather couch and asked the officer to send Karina DeYoung to join him.
She looked rough when she entered—puffy eyes, a nervous twitch.
When she sat across from him, the words came pouring out: “Pax admitted everything. Lily-Ann already knew he’d helped other people with assisted suicide.
Which, I mean, I support that, who doesn’t?
Except Pax says he didn’t do anything to Frank, he never had the chance.
But Frank wanted him to. Lily-Ann said that you, the police, would trace the cash Pax’s other clients withdrew, you’d track the withdrawals, at which point… ”
Vernon pretended to take notes as his phone recorded the conversation. “At which point?”
“That’s when Pax admitted what he’d done.
” Karina swallowed. “That he killed Sunny after he asked him—or blackmailed him to—to echo my testimony. Because he was terrified that if you didn’t arrest CJ, if you kept investigating, you’d uncover his past. Except then he realized that now Sunny knew he was guilty and, um, so yeah, he killed him.
And he did it there, I mean at that location, to make you look at Sunny’s business. ”
“That’s all well and good, Mrs. DeYoung, except you saw CJ push your husband.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You’re changing your story.”
“I was wrong.” Karina shifted on the couch. “She tried to steady Frank and it looked like she’d pushed him. I swear it looked like that, but I was wrong. Maybe Frank wanted to fall, I don’t know. But Pax admitted everything.”
“Then he simply fell,” Vernon said.
“Frank? Yeah. Yes.”
“No, Pax. He happened to fall down the stairs and break his neck. How exactly did that unfold?”
“Oh, well, after he said—after Pax admitted that Frank hired him, I yelled at him.” She touched her face with a trembling hand. “I shouted at him. I was so angry. I shouted and he took a step backward and tumbled down the stairs. He tumbled down.”
She looked away, her gaze shifting to the hardwood floor as Vernon talked her through the events twice more and learned nothing else.
Hm. What if he took this new information at face value?
In that case, Pax Heron offered euthanasia services to wealthy clients.
He’d agreed to kill Frank DeYoung, but Frank died before Pax did anything.
Then Karina pointed the finger at CJ Moore.
That sparked an investigation that threatened Pax, so he arranged Sunny Wheeler to offer testimony, at which point he realized he’d left himself exposed.
That was stupid, but in Vernon’s experience murders usually were. Then Pax killed Wheeler in a way that implicated VivX.
That tied together well enough, except what did it mean for Vernon? That he’d been wrong about CJ Moore, true. But also that he’d close a handful of deaths at once, if the cash trail panned out on Pax’s former clients. And more important, he’d get a repeat murderer off the streets. Not too shabby.
He asked the officer to send in Lily-Ann Novak, and she told him the same story, more coherently.
“Once I realized Frank wanted to die, everything made sense. Frank was solicitous of Karina’s feelings, so he kept this secret from her.
The rest flows from there. You should interview the families of Pax’s now-deceased clients and track the cash they withdrew to pay him. ”
“Thanks for the guidance,” Vernon said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“You’re welcome. Also, search the VivX area for bicycle treads or footprints that match Pax’s bike or shoes. I suspect he left evidence in the Sunny Wheeler murder.”
“Walk me through Pax Heron’s fall,” Vernon told her.
“Karina stepped forward like she was going to slap him. He jerked backwards and fell down the stairs.”
“Simple as that?” he said.
“Yes.”
“And CJ Moore’s abduction and drugging?”
“I suspect Pax told CJ that he wanted to talk privately about something important to Frank. She couldn’t have resisted that.
He took her to the soundproofed music studio and fed her an overdose of drugs.
He wanted it to look like she hid there, then killed herself—something like that.
I doubt he was thinking clearly after he cut Wheeler’s throat.
That was the first time he’d committed a real murder. Especially one as bloody as that.”
Golda Bakofsky and Ocean Mistral told the same story, with the addition of a few elaborate and unhelpful tangents from the former.
Sophie Gilman’s tale didn’t deviate from the narrative, and neither did Nicholas Perez’s.
Everything fit together neatly, yet Vernon found one fact jarring: the tenants of the Marigold Cottages all spoke to him without hesitation.
Nobody refused, nobody requested a lawyer.
Which was normal, for normal people. But for these glorious weirdos?
For them it was extremely suspect, especially considering how closely the stories matched.
There were no contradictions. The whole thing felt rehearsed, like one of Sophie Gilman’s plays. Too pat, too tidy, too perfect.
They were hiding something—again.
Well, fine. He’d look into the cash withdrawals and he’d question the families of Pax’s now-deceased clients.
And if CJ lived, her statement would make Pax’s behavior pretty damn clear.
And Vernon would lock down another tricky case, and close some old files.
He might even ask Sophie Gilman for the theatre tickets for his wife.